Desiring The Highlander

by Michele Sinclair

  “Nice speech, little English. I hope it’s true,” Hagatha huffed.

  Ellenor was about to reassert her opinion when a loud banging came from the door. Brighid rose to answer the urgent call. It was a boy, shaking and breathing hard from running. “Milady,” he said panting, his eyes finding Laurel. “We need help!”

  Cole slipped into the smithy and stood in the shadows looking out into the courtyard. He had come here often the past few days under the guise of ordering more supplies for his men. All the while, he hoped to spy a glimpse of Ellenor.

  She would dart across the yard, sometimes with Fallon, other times with Brighid, usually to the bake house, the buttery, or the storeroom. In the past week, he had seen her visit almost every building in the yard, including the Warden’s Tower, housing the soldiers assigned to protect the castle. The smithy was the one place she had not ventured. Here mostly swords, spears, and other weaponry were made. Odd requests for items such as pots, bridles, and miscellaneous needs came in, but none from Ellenor.

  Today she was going from the kitchens into the Star Tower. She looked exhausted and Cole was tempted to visit Laurel later and let her know that Ellenor was being overworked. The pale brown gown she was wearing was new and it matched the color of her hair. Usually, she pinned it back or plaited it, but today she had left it long and loose so that it caught the sunshine as it moved.

  For the first couple of days since their parting, he had half expected, half hoped to see her make an excuse to visit the training fields, bring food to his men, or at least casually walk about the inner yard the afternoons his and Finn’s men conducted contests at the castle. But she had stayed away, honoring his request. And the fact that she could burned at him, eating him whole.

  The clanking of metal being shaped abruptly stopped and Cole turned around. The smithy handed him a long, thick double-edged blade. Its red tip was turning gray as it cooled. Cole swung the large sword, nodding at its balance. “’Tis good work.”

  The smithy nodded and pointed across the yard at the Star Tower. “I wonder what has those two hurrying so?”

  Cole followed his finger to see Hagatha and Ellenor rushing toward the stables with a young boy in tow. Neal, the stable master, was ready for them, handing Hagatha the reins to her horse and helping Ellenor mount a large chestnut meant to carry soldiers, not a small woman. Before Cole could step out and stop them, Ellenor grabbed the young boy by the arm and whipped him up in front of her. With a flick of the reins, both women were loping through the gatehouse and out of sight.

  The old smithy shrugged his shoulders and went back to his bench, laying the sword down beside several others that were in one of varying stages of fabrication. “Never would have thought to warm to an Englishwoman, even if she could speak my words,” he uttered, regaining Cole’s attention. “But after what she just did for my Norah, I guess I have to. Isn’t hard to look at either, is she?”

  “What did Lady Ellenor do for Norah?”

  The old smithy eyed Cole. “Don’t you know? Well, I suspect she was going to tell you tonight at dinner.”

  Cole didn’t know how to tell the smith that he didn’t eat dinner in the castle, with his men, or anywhere in which he might encounter Ellenor. “Tell me now. I don’t like surprises.”

  Grimacing, the smith studied Cole. Finally, with a grunt of resignation, he wiped his brow and said, “My Norah is a good cook, has a natural talent in the kitchen. That Englishwoman—”

  “Lady Ellenor,” Cole inserted forcefully.

  “Uh…Lady Ellenor,” the smith quickly corrected, “somehow found out about my Norah and, well, contrived a way for the laird’s cook to teach her all about running a kitchen. Says that when you’re to leave for your new home, Norah’s to come with you and keep your men happy. Her ladyship believes good food will help you win over the hearts of your clansmen up there.” The withered man looked absentmindedly at nothing as if lost in thought and then shrugged his shoulders. “Couldn’t hurt. I know I’m susceptible to a fine meal.”

  Cole’s jaw turned hard. A good cook was hard to come by and harder to keep. His brother had learned this the hard way. But Ellenor had assumed too much with Norah. It was not her decision whom he took north and gave duties; it was his. He would decide if he wanted a cook and who it would be. She was staying away from him physically, but if Ellenor thought she could worm her way into his life by such attempts, she needed to think again.

  “Have that ready for me tomorrow,” Cole ordered the smith and left for the stables. He was going to find Ellenor and order her to cease all plans dealing with him and his life.

  The ride out to the far end of the training fields took less than an hour but felt much longer. When the message came that Jaime Ruadh had been seriously hurt, Ellenor had immediately prepared to leave with Hagatha. That Cole might be at the fields had not occurred to her until they were well on their way. Even so, she knew she still would have come. Jaime had been one of the first to be kind to her and she needed to know he was going to be all right.

  Arriving at the scene, both women were directed to a cluster of trees. Jaime had not been alone. Almost a dozen men had been hurt, all with deep cuts requiring stitching, something Ellenor had no idea how to do.

  Hagatha quickly began dolling out instructions. Ellenor listened and watched carefully, committing all she heard to memory. Those with medicinal knowledge were uncommon and skills in stitching wounds were highly coveted. She had been welcomed into the McTiernay home and had tried to make herself useful these past few days, but she was no fool. Ellenor knew that as soon as Laurel was able to assume her role as Lady of the Castle once again, she would. At that time, Ellenor would have very little to offer beyond friendship. She was no great weaver and her services in the kitchen weren’t wanted or needed. Seeing to injuries may be one of the few areas she could be of true assistance.

  “There,” Hagatha said, showing her how to hold a wound closed and make stitches simultaneously. “Now, get me some of that paste I showed you how to make.” Ellenor handed her the bowl. “Pack it on like so. Now help that man, and do the same while I speak to the commander.”

  Ellenor gathered her gown and moved to the soldier Hagatha had been pointing toward. It was Jaime. He smiled at her. “Hello there, lass. You are looking finer than sunshine. I always knew you were bonnie, but—”

  “Shhh,” Ellenor whispered, soothing his brow. At the same time, she was wiping away the blood all over his chest and arm. He winced and she jerked her hand back. “Jaime, am I hurting you?”

  “Nay, lass,” he lied and tried to smile.

  “Liar,” she murmured back and began her ministrations once again.

  Several cuts covered his back and arm from falling into a thicket of thorn bushes, making it difficult to find the main wound. Finally seeing the tip of the deep gash along his side, she followed it down. The leather belt strapped around his waist had been sliced and blood soaked his kilt along his hip and upper thigh.

  Ellenor swallowed. She had been getting so much better. She could be in a man’s presence and no longer jump at being touched. She had stopped searching for Cole anytime a man she didn’t know was near. But this was different. She would have to pull down Jaime’s plaid at least partially to cleanse and tend the wound. In doing so, she would be touching a man in a way that made her instinctively want to retreat and run away.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. You can do this, Ellenor, she told herself encouragingly. This is Jaime Ruadh. He’s your friend and needs your help. Gathering her confidence, she reached out for the cloth, but before her fingertips encountered her goal, her forearm was caught in a fierce grip. It was Jaime holding her back. “No, lass, the commander would kill me for sure. Have the midwife come and tend me.”

  Ellenor shook her head. “She’s with someone else.”

  “Then I’ll wait,” Jaime growled through gritted teeth.

  Suddenly, the fortitude Ellenor was seeking came upon her. She jerked her arm free and s
aid unequivocally, “No, you won’t. Now lie still and let me know if you need something to bite upon.”

  With a quick flick, she spread open the plaid and carefully began to wipe away the blood. The injury was bad, more so because of its location than its depth. Grabbing a needle and thread, she burned the tip in the fire and pressed the wound closed. Quickly she made the stitches, looping, spacing them just as Hagatha had shown her.

  Jaime groaned and Ellenor, who had entered a concentrated state, was reminded that this was a man, who had feelings. “I’m sorry, but it has to be done. Talk about something. Anything to focus your mind elsewhere.”

  Jaime grunted and said, “All I can think of is the commander and how he is going to kill me.”

  “Why is that?” Ellenor asked absentmindedly, her attention on her task.

  “If he finds out you tended me, I’m a dead man, that’s why.”

  “Your head is playing tricks on you. Cole will be glad you are all right and will recover.”

  “My hip is injured, lass, not my head, and the last thing the commander will be is glad. Have you not wondered why Donald and I haven’t been to see you since you arrived?”

  “I saw Donald the first night. And as for you, I assumed you were busy.”

  “Not too busy to look in on you. I wanted to make sure you were adjusting well, that the clan hasn’t been treating you as an outcast. The commander wouldn’t let me.”

  “Well, you can calm yourself. I have been treated very well.” Ellenor was glad of the conversation. Her stitching had reached the midway point between his hipbone and pelvis. Jaime flinched and she fought not to do the same. “So what is all the nonsense about Cole?”

  “God, you are beautiful. I had no idea how much, but the commander did. He must have and that is why he has kept all his men away. He wanted you all to himself. And God, I would, too, if I had a woman half as bonnie as you.”

  His words were slurred and Ellenor knew he was about to pass out. She wished he just would. It would make things much easier. “You are mistaken, Jaime. Cole doesn’t want me and I am as free as any other maiden,” she said, finishing off the last stitch. She tied it and bit off the end. Grabbing the bowl of ground ivy and oak, she applied the paste liberally to the wound and then began to smooth the mixture to the other various cuts covering his body.

  She finished and was about to go the next man when Jaime reopened his eyes and said, “He may have freed you, but you never freed him.”

  Ellenor opened her mouth to deny his accusation, but it was too late—Jaime went limp and was out. She then turned and looked at the next man needing attention, forcing her mind to put aside what Jaime had said.

  Later. She would think about it later.

  Cole stepped away to view the damage he had seen upon arriving. He should walk the area again with Finn, Conor’s commander, but the second his eyes had locked onto Ellenor, they could look nowhere else. She was in the distance, bending over Jaime. Her long hair hung around them like a golden veil. Her hands roamed his chest and then moved lower, finding his injury. He watched as Jaime tried unsuccessfully to stop her. When Ellenor pulled his kilt back to examine his wound, Cole saw no desire on her face. Only concentration was in her expression.

  Ellenor’s fear of men was subsiding.

  He hadn’t realized until that moment how much knowing she kept all men physically at a distance had been keeping him sane. Ellenor was not about to eagerly accept a man’s touch, but she was fast approaching the time when she wouldn’t shrink away from it. Then, she would do exactly as she promised. She would find a way to be happy and he would forever lose her. And the idea was eating away at him.

  Finn called out. Cole broke his gaze and wandered to where Finn was standing talking to another soldier. “A small brush fire caused the cattle to charge the farm. Two of the fields were lost, but thankfully the cottages are still standing and the women and children are unharmed. That wouldn’t have been so if your men hadn’t reacted so quickly getting the herd to veer course.”

  Cole pointed to Hagatha and Ellenor. “How many were injured?”

  “Four, severe. The others have minor cuts. Hagatha tells me all will survive, though they won’t be moving quickly for a few weeks.”

  “That’s good news.”

  “Aye.”

  “I see Ellenor is assisting. Strange to see that. The few times she and I have crossed paths, she seemed tense, as if she thought I might grab her. I guess it’s just me,” Finn ended with a shrug.

  “You need help?” Cole asked, changing the subject.

  Finn shook his head. “You go to your men and have the injured ones brought back to the village to be cared for.”

  Cole nodded and proceeded up the hill. The rest of his men now blocked his view as they huddled around those injured, getting reassurance from Hagatha and Ellenor that all would live. Cole knew their concern was just an excuse. Almost all of his men had been injured once or twice and they knew the wounds their comrades received were serious, but nonlethal. They were there to watch Ellenor.

  Jaime had blathered on about her for days. And short of cutting the man’s throat, Cole had been unable to stop him. Donald had been just as bad, but in a different way. Each time Jaime offered up a story of their journey, Donald would grunt and reaffirm it was true.

  Only once did Jaime ask Cole directly if he liked her. Cole had been lying down, feigning sleep, but he had heard the question and refused to answer it.

  Minutes passed and Jaime spoke again, this time to no one. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t admit it even if you did. And it’s not because of what happened to Robert or that she’s English. I’ve never said this to you and probably wouldn’t have the courage to do it when you were awake, but I think you’re afraid that she just might be able to make you happy. And you don’t know how to handle happiness. So I hope you figure out how to handle true misery for that lass is too damn pretty to stay single around here. And, Commander, I’m just as susceptible as any other man.”

  Cole knew then what he had to do. Ellenor might not be for him, but she was not for his men either. His only choice had been to confine his soldiers to the training fields and away from the castle. He had hoped space and time away from Ellenor would dull his feelings enough so that if his men ever did meet her, he would not care if they became smitten.

  Time and space had not helped, he realized, breaking through the gathering. They had only made things worse. His men were ogling her as if they had never seen a woman before. Jealousy coursed through his veins and an unjustified anger boiled within him, threatening to erupt.

  “Hell, I thought Jaime Ruadh to be exaggerating,” he heard one of his men murmur aloud.

  “I don’t think she is English,” said another. “A lass that bonnie has to be from the Highlands.”

  “Only the English could be such fools and let that angel go.”

  “Aye, we’re not that foolish. Are we, lads?”

  Cole could stand no more. “Get back to work!”

  The crowd instantly began to disperse and Cole spied Ellenor standing by one of the men, a bloodied cloth in hand. She looked exhausted and was staring directly at him, unmoving. Without a word, Cole walked up to the clearing, grabbed her hand as he moved by her, so that she fell in step beside him. When they were no longer in sight of the others, he swung her into his arms. His fingers threaded her thick mane and pressed her cheek to his chest. Her arms curled around his waist and held him close.

  “What happened?” she mumbled into his leine, refusing to let go.

  “A fire startled the animals. My men charged them to save the farm.”

  Ellenor nodded against his chest to let him know that she had heard. Suddenly, the lack of sleep the last several days had caught up to her.

  Cole had seen her fatigue and could feel it even as she clung to him. Bending down, he sat upon a soft pelt of grass and leaned back against a rock with her cradled in his lap. “You’ve been working too hard. As Laurel’s frie
nd, you don’t need to prove yourself.”

  Ellenor bobbed her head. “Yes I do. Everyone works hard and so must I if I am going to stay.”

  “Aye, contribute, but no one expects you to collapse from exhaustion.”

  “It’s not the work. I cannot sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I’m haunted by you.” Ellenor suddenly pulled back, realizing what she had just admitted. “I shouldn’t have said that. Forget it.”

  “No.”

  “You must. I don’t want you out of guilt or pity or concern over my welfare, and that’s what it would be if you came back. What I just said changes nothing between us. Tell me it changes nothing.”

  Her eyes darted back and forth peering into his, searching for agreement. “It changes nothing,” he whispered, and then pulled her back against his chest, rocking her in his arms. She took a deep breath and sighed, her body relaxing as it gave way to slumber. Cole stroked her hair and, after several minutes, said, “I lied. It changes everything.”

  Cole carefully stood up and carried her back down the hill. Hagatha had already departed, after getting a promise that one of the men would see Ellenor safely back. The moment Cole emerged from the shadows, he could feel the weight of all his men’s eyes bearing down on him. They had questions and now they had answers.

  Cole threw back his head and waited for one of his men to retrieve his mount. Carefully resting Ellenor on the front edge of his saddle, Cole braced himself and swung his leg over the animal’s back before gently pulling her limp body back into his arms. She shifted but remained asleep as she unconsciously nestled against his shoulder.

  Cole released a deep breath he had not realized he had been holding. The sinking sense of panic haunting him since the moment he had left her room was dissipating, and in its place was the unfamiliar feeling of hope. Something he had thought never to know again.